No Disintegrations
by meowloudly15
Summary: The story behind Boba Fett's reputation for disintegrating his marks. Probably doesn't fit with canon. Rated K plus for sci-fi violence.


**Hi, everybody! This is meowloudly15! How's it going?**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own _Star Wars_ or any related characters.**

 **N.B. My formatting style is listed on my profile page in case you're confused by anything. All spelling mistakes are intentional.**

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Coruscant, 1 BBY

 _Found 'im._

Boba Fett lowered his macrobinoculars and clipped them to his belt. He had spotted his mark, who had just entered a cantina.

 _Now how do I take 'im out?_

 _Can't shoot 'im now: firstly, he just entered a building; second, there'd be too many beings around. Stupid city-planet. What's the word... ecu- eco-; something -octopus. Or something._

 _Focus. You gotta mark to kill, and it's gotta be done now, before the Rebels figger out where he's at. If that happens, Vader's gonna be ticked, and then I'm screwed. And I know firs'hand what happens to people who disappoint Vader..._

Boba shuddered involuntarily.

 _Not that I'm afraid or anything. I ain't. I'd just perfer to not get strangled to death. Yeah. That's it._

 _Okay. Get focused. Speed._

 _I'll follow 'im in, then we'll see where it goes from there._

Boba activated his jet pack and flew discreetly down to the ground via a ventilation shaft, the same one which he had used to access the roof of the building from which he was conducting surveillance.

 _So I'm gonna hafta take out this kid in closed quarters, most likely, with lots o' people around. Not ideal, but if Vader wants him done in by tomorrow, then he's gotta be done in by tomorrow._

 _Better ditch my armour; it'd definitely cause people to get suspicious._

Boba reached the bottom of the ventilation shaft. He turned off his jet pack and removed his helmet, jet pack, and armour, stashing all of it in a dustbin. He was now dressed in only his armour liner, his utility belt, and his boots.

 _Okay, weapons. What am I gonna do fer weapons?_

 _Gotta get things that're small and light and easy to hide._

 _I got everything that's in my belt._

 _I got those darts in my kneepads; wouldn't be too weird if they stayed on, right?_

Boba reattached his kneepads.

 _Okay. How 'bout a gun? I gotta have a concealed-carry holster in here somewhere..._

Boba rummaged through his belt, finding an ankle holster. He strapped it to his right leg and slid into it his nearly-new Sacros K-11 blaster pistol.

 _ _ _ _So les'see, what's this guy like again?____

 _Right! The word's ecumenopolis! That's what Coruscant is._

 _Okay. Gotta focus._

 _Darn this hangover..._

Boba started to walk over to the cantina which his mark had entered.

 _Okay. The kid's name is Ezra Bridger. He's 18 years old, and he's a real pain in Vader's cybernetic side. Something about bein' an orphan? I dunno. Well, he's got Jedi training, so he won't be an easy kill, 'specially with the crowd._

 _Better get inside and see what the sitch is in there with people and all._

Boba pushed open the door to the cantina and stepped inside.

He was immediately struck by a powerful smell of chemicals, including alcohol. There were also a large number of patrons inside the cantina, who created a rather high noise level. Boba leaned up against the doorframe for a moment, regaining his bearings and letting his senses adjust to the overwhelming environment.

 _This ain't helping my hangover in the slightest._

 _Now where's the kid?_

Boba began to wander through the cantina, looking for his mark. He finally spotted a slender, dark-haired figure wearing a familiar orange shirt sitting at the counter. He made his way over to the young man.

Ezra Bridger was resting his chin on his hand, drumming his fingers on the counter and staring at a half-empty drink. He appeared to be lost in thought.

Boba pulled up a stool next to him and took a seat. He noticed that Ezra had attached to his belt what appeared to be pieces of a lightsaber.

 _Okay. So his laser sword's out of commission. That's good. Still gotta watch out fer those Force powers, though._

Ezra noticed the new presence to his left and turned to face him. "Good evening," he said.

"Good evening to you, young man," replied Boba. "What're you doing in these parts?"

"Trying to hitch a ride to Lothal. D'you know anyone who could help?"

"Nah, sorry."

"How 'bout you? What are you doing?"

 _He seems pretty sober._

"I'm in here on business."

"What kind of business, if you don't mind me asking?"

Boba smirked. "Business that ain't none of your business, kid."

Ezra turned aside. "Ah. Gotcha. Smuggler stuff. Can I buy you a drink?"

"I shouldn't. Nah. No thanks."

"All righty." Ezra took another sip of his drink. "What's your name?"

Boba was caught off-guard a little, but being always prepared, he had an answer from a previous mission ready. "The name's Jim Erso. And you?"

Ezra looked thoroughly thrown for a loop, despite him having requested a name. "Uh, I'm Ezr- Lando. Yeah. Ezrolando... Tano. Nice to meet'cha." He proffered his hand. Boba shook it.

"Nice t' meet'cha too, kid."

 _Okay. How do I off 'im? Poison in his drink?_

 _That's a bit obvious, and anyway, what would I use?_

 _How 'bout I hit him with a stun dart, drag him out back, and finish 'im off?_

 _How'd I explain his collapse? Too much to drink?_

 _Yeah, that might work._

Cautiously watching Ezra the entire time, Boba reached down to his kneecap to activate a rocket dart.

Ezra's neutral expression suddenly shifted into one of concern and suspicion. He looked over at Boba and saw him reaching downwards in a fairly suspicious manner, and he began to glare at him, reaching into his jacket.

 _CRAP!_

 _FIRE IT NOW FIRE IT NOW FIRE IT NOW_

Boba pressed a concealed button on his kneepad, sending a stun dart shooting towards Ezra's leg at point-blank range. Ezra swung his leg out of the way with inhuman speed, then leaped to his feet, wielding a blaster pistol which he pulled out from underneath his jacket.

 _WELP so much for going unnoticed_

Boba leaped to his feet as well, pulling out his blaster pistol. He threw his stool at Ezra, who dodged it and opened fire. Boba dove over the counter, knocking over the bartender droid as he did so. He got soaked in cheesy-smelling lager, wiping it out of his eyes as he turned to return fire.

Ezra had taken out the pieces of his lightsaber and had begun to assemble them via telekinesis. When he finished, he clipped it to his belt and aimed his pistol at Boba.

Upon hearing the gunshots, the cantina patrons rose up in an uproar and started to evacuate the building. One humanoid alien had been caught in the crossfire and was lying on the ground.

Boba leaned over the counter and fired at Ezra. The first two shots missed him entirely, leaving scorch marks in the wall, but one hit him in the right arm and another hit the blaster, blowing it to pieces.

 _There we go. Now he's defenceless. Time to finish him off._

Boba stood up and fired directly at Ezra's torso.

Ezra whipped out his fully-assembled lightsaber and parried the shots.

 _CRAP!_

 _Where's there a melee weapon?_

Boba kept firing at Ezra while he scanned the cantina for another weapon. Ezra continued to block his fire while advancing steadily and calmly.

Boba spotted some sort of staff leaning in the corner of the cantina, just in front of the counter. He dove for it. Ezra's lightsaber struck the location where he had been standing just a second afterwards.

Boba dropped his pistol and picked up the staff. Ezra swung around to face him, carving out a good chunk of the counter with his lightsaber as he brought it to his front. Boba smacked Ezra in the face with the staff before he had the chance to react.

Before his very eyes, Ezra disintegrated into nothing. His lightsaber fell to the ground and deactivated.

Boba dropped the staff in shock.

 _So..._

 _That was a disintegration staff, huh?_

Boba leaned over to pick up his discarded pistol. He turned to leave, but thought better of it and picked up Ezra's lightsaber.

 _I gotta get out of here 'fore the police show up._

Boba ran back to where he had stored his gear. He quickly reattached his armour, jetpack, and helmet to his body, then rocketed away to the landing dock where he had parked his spaceship.

 _Gee, I hope Vader's happy._

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 **I understand that I took considerable liberties with Boba Fett's character and made him a bit of a bumbling buffoon, but he does have a hangover (that party the previous night was wild). Anyways, it made him more fun to write.**

 **Yes, disintegration staves are a thing, and they're canon, too. Look on Wookiepedia.**

 **Hope to see you around!**


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